


i'm seeing home in a stranger's face

by pen_and_sword



Series: home is subjective, and also with you [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, and neither taaco twin is aware of it, because lup would and I wanted to, fantasy hot topic, lup survives, so things happen I guess, taaco twin reunion happens in fantasy hot topic, taaco twins are allergic to genuine emotions, taako's a+ methods of coping, voidfish gifted amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12051117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pen_and_sword/pseuds/pen_and_sword
Summary: You've just murdered 40 people and there's a girl you've never seen before, standing in front of you, wearing your face.





	1. what do in an emergency (find your long lost twin)

When you meet her, you’ve just (accidentally) murdered 40 people and your assistant, unwilling to be associated with a mass murderer has ditched you. You're not too torn up about this, because you’re amazing enough to make up for Sazed, and you never liked him much anyways.

(It's true, you didn't like Sazed much. You don't like anyone much, and Sazed had always had a gleam in his eye that made you wary. But you had spent years with Sazed. He was the only person that maybe came close to someone you could call ‘friend’. You don't think about this.) 

You’re wandering down a cobblestone street, surrounded by shops and boutiques. You haven't slept in going on 3 days, but also, your clothes were in the wagon Sazed had stolen when he ditched you-  
(And you can't blame him. You don't even try.) 

-and you've got priorities. Mainly, you refuse to be seen in the travel stained outfit you've been wearing for the past 2 days any longer than absolutely necessary. Nuh-uh. Taako’s got more class than that. Luckily, Sazed forgot to take the small pouch filled with gold along with him. 

You eye each shop you pass, and are subsequently disappointed by each shop you pass. Finally you strut past Fantasy Hot Topic. What a terrible, decrepit place, you think as you walk in, fully intending to buy a large amount of somethings from this terrible, decrepit place. 

You cast a judgemental eye on your surroundings. Fantasy Hot Topic is expensive, and although Sazed left the gold, you know it won't last long, and you won't have any more until you find a new profession. You don't suppose that future audiences would listen if you told them it was a complete accident- oh, that dress over there is fantastic. The most beautiful thing you've ever seen, asides from yourself. You need to have it. 

You dash across the store. Across the store, another person also dashes across the floor. Your hand lands on the dress. Another person’s hand lands on the dress. Clearly, there is going to be a great and terrible battle here, and you aim to win. 

And then you look up. 

You used to think that finding someone who matched your beauty was an impossible task. You might be forced to revise that opinion now, because there is clear proof otherwise standing right in front of you, ready to fight over the a dress. 

You used to think that finding someone who was just as beautiful as you was impossible, but you never thought someone would look just like you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be longer, but I needed to stop it here for #dramaticeffect


	2. don't play with fire (around officials of the law)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Taaco twins have an epic battle in Fantasy Hot Topic, in which there are no winners.

You stare at the stranger. The stranger stares back. You find yourself vaguely annoyed by the situation in general. The world was not made to handle such raw amazingness. (Something about that thought feels wrong. There's no reason for it, but you feel repulsed at the thought of a world made for only one. One of what? You don't know, but it's as disgusting as a peanut butter and onion sandwich.) 

Gradually, your priorities reassert themselves. Yes, yes, the doppelgänger was very interesting and beautiful, and all, but you know what would be even more beautiful. You, in the dress the stranger- no, that's wrong, they’re not a stranger, you don't know why, but that's just not how Taako Central is going to roll today- so, the dress the doppelgänger is currently clinging onto. 

You give the dress an experimental tug. The doppelgänger tugs back. 

You smile, and squeeze all the malice and wrath you can into it. “Hey, uh, I got here first, so I think we can all agree who this dress belongs to.” You have no idea if this is true, but you care even less then you know

The doppelgänger raises an insulting eyebrow. It takes talent to imbue an eyebrow with insult and disdain. You feel your respect for them grow. “Well, personally, I've always felt that clothing should go to the person who it looks best on.” Oh. They’re good, but they're going down. 

You nod. “I agree totally. Which is exactly why I should have it.” 

The doppelgänger narrows her eyes, and the tip of your ponytail starts smoldering. Which is so not cool. “Actually, I thought it was kinda the opposite. There's a mirror over there, if you want to just check out the evidence.” You don't think talking will get you very far. 

“Listen, I know a fantastic optometrist, and I could recommend him, because you obviously need some help in the looking department.” As you speak, you discreetly cast Mage Hand. You are probably not as discreet as you hoped, because your hair starts burning faster. You should probably do something about that. The cashier is starting to look frantic. The doppelgänger looks pissed. 

You tug at the dress again. A patch of floor near you bursts into fire. You tug a little harder. The doppelgänger tugs back, and the flame on the floor soars a little bit higher. Apparently you are done with words. 

The doppelgänger must have a higher initiative roll than you, because the moment Mage Hand wraps around their hand, you’re being whacked across face with an umbrella. Well, first of all, fuck them. Your hat nearly tips of your head, and the cashier looks desperately between the two of you before running out the door. Normally, that's what you'd be doing, but it is on now, and the various relatives of dubious relation may have raised a selfish, cowardly idiot, but they didn't raise a quitter. 

You straighten your back, cast Magic Missile, and hope for the best. You hear shouting outside. Something about a carrot, or maybe a marriage. 

You cheer when your Magic Missile takes the doppelgänger off their feet. Haha, take that, imposter! 

The doppelgänger stumbles back to their feet, and they point their umbrella at you. You can practically see hellfire burning in their eyes. 

And then you're the one being tossed back on the ground, and fuck them, your dress singed, the brim of your is on fire, and you have little doubt that if you reached up to check, you would be -2 eyebrows. That, and your hair has burned down to shoulder length. 

You are, of course, bruised, scratched, and singed, but you are understandably more concerned about the state of your appearance. The dress, now a symbolic trophy that you are going to win, is lying on the ground between you two. 

You glance up at the doppelgänger, who's readying her umbrella again, clearly expecting another attack. Instead, you lunge for dress on the ground, narrowly avoiding the still-burning patch of floor. 

Once you have the dress in your hands, you throw yourself to the side of the doppelgänger. This was a good move, as there is now more than one patch of floor burning. You scramble to your feet, and race to the door. The doppelgänger is right after you. A fireball nearly burns off the tip of your ear and behind you the doppelgänger growls in frustration. 

The fireball blows past you and right into a large, burly human man standing in the doorway. Whoops. You hope that was nobody important. The man collapses, and you hold onto the brim of your hat as you get ready to leap over his sizable belly. 

The doppelgänger behind you is screaming with such creative insults that you can't help but feel the smidgen of respect for them in your chest grow. You grin as you leap up into the air- 

-and promptly face plant into the ground. Well, fuck. Talk about low dexterity rolls. The doppelgänger whoops behind you. You attempt to roll to your feet, but something wrapped around your ankle stops you. 

You whirl around in a panic and look at the man with a burned chest holding onto your ankle. Then you look at the shiny 5-pointed star badge on his chest. The doppelgänger has skidded to a stop and from the look on their face, you can tell they're looking at the same thing as you. Well, fuck, you think, with a lot of passion. 

You look up at the doppelgänger, who looks back at you. Then they look back at the sheriff, who’s scowling at the sky and slowly pushing himself up. 

“Well… sorry about the whole ‘lighting you on fire thing’ Mr. Sheriff,” they say. And then they're bolting towards the back of the store, presumably to find a back entrance. Their red cloak billows out dramatically after them. If you didn't currently hate them, and their cloak (which is more dramatically than yours, damn them) you'd be impressed. 

“You know,” you say to the Sheriff “all the fireballs and shit was all them. I'm a victimized party here.” 

“Yeah, I'm sure you fuckin’ are,” the Sheriff says. He looks at someone behind you and nods. You feel as if you could have made better life choices somewhere. You cautiously look behind you. 

And of course, because the universe can't tolerate such beauty as yours going unprosecuted, it's the Deputy. And they’ve got handcuffs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So chapter 2's up the same day as chapter 1 lol. Tbh, I already had a lot of it written but I needed to end chapter 1 there for the Drama. It's what the Taaco twins would want. Anyways, thanks for reading, more thanks for commenting and leaving kudos


	3. don't get arrested; jail can be tedious (but if you do, do it with someone who will help you break out)

You sit in the local jail and tell yourself you are not sulking, as you sulk. The bed is stuffed with straw, and itchy and uncomfortable. Totally unsuited for dramatically posing, but you’ll have to make do with it. 

The deputy watching you has broken nose, bandaged arms, a black eye, and no shortage of bruises. Every time they shift uncomfortably, a tiny thrill of victory runs through you. 

You inspect your nails and nearly regret throwing your nail file at the deputy however long ago it was. There are a lot of terrible things about prison, but your least favorite is the boredom, and the thinking that the boredom drives you to. 

You’ve mentally composed a 57 item long list about why this prison sucks, recited your list to the deputy, who did not seem flattered, taken a nap, gone through what you can remember of a yoga routine, filed your nails, and now it's just you and the gnawing sense of guilt that’s made itself at home inside your chest. You wish you had a way to make it pay rent, because Taako Central did not want to put up with this shit. 

(You can't stop wondering what they felt when they died. Did they feel betrayed? There had been a little girl and her mother in the front row, and every time you think about them, a wave of nausea rises up in your throats and you just want it to stop) 

You sigh as loudly as possible and add ‘not suitable for sighing dramatically’ to your list as #58. The sheriff still hadn't come back from chasing down your doppelgänger, and you hope they're giving him hell. 

And then, like your thought was a summoning spell, the door to the jail is kicked open and the sheriff, who looks like a man that has recently journeyed to hell, comes in carrying what looks to be about 130 pounds of blonde elvish rage. 

Your doppelgänger is covered in something that you really hope isn't what it looks like and looks like they’ve recently been tossed in a blender. They're flung over the sheriff’s shoulder and you’re pretty sure they’ve tried to bite off his ear at least once. 

“Yeah, my dude! Give him hell!” you shout to your doppelgänger. There’s a brief pause in the swearing that the doppelgänger uses to give you a thumbs up. You beam back. The sheriff looks like he's trying to evaporate you both with the sheer force of his rage, and you send a flirty smile his way as well. 

The sheriff marches over to the cell and slams open the door. You try not to flinch.The sheriff yanks you doppelgänger off him and flings them to the floor. The sheriff’s (very bloody) ear lights on fire. As soon as the cell door slams shut once more, your doppelgänger bounces back to their feet and resumes their creative and engaging dialogue of who the sheriff’s mother might have screwed to have such a ugly child. 

The sheriff looks at both of you, and sighs. You think you see the last of soul slip out through his mouth. His ear is still on fire. You wish there was someone you could bet that it would soon spread to his hair. 

“Max,” the sheriff says. It's barely audible over your doppelgänger and you're beginning to feel impressed at the length and volume of their speech. The deputy jumps to immediate attention and salutes. It's a bit overkill. 

The sheriff nods towards the door and you feel a bubble of excitement. Can it be that your jailers are finally leaving you to make a daring escape? You’ve already come up with a witty quip. Now all you have to do is come up with an equally witty plan. 

The sheriff marches back out of the room, the deputy trying their best to mimic him. They end up looking like they're jumping rope. You lean back against the brick wall, and hope that they stay gone long enough for you to come up with a marvelous and daring plan of escape. 

You stare at your doppelgänger and they stare back. Awkwardness clouds the air, and you do your best not to blink. Your doppelgänger has even shorter hair than you. It's cut in a messy yet stylish bob, and you think it might look good on a the cover of a magazine. The ends of your hair are still crispy, but it’d stopped burning at around shoulder length. You look around for something to transmute into a mirror, and your eyes land on the wall behind you. 

Oh. There's an idea. 

“So…” says your doppelgänger. “What's with… you know, your face? Because I didn't know I needed to copyright mine.” 

“My face is the epitome of perfection. What's with your face?” you reply. 

Your doppelgänger frowns and wraps their hand around the handle of their umbrella. 

“You really don't know me?” they ask. “At all?” Suddenly they sound rather vulnerable, and you wish you could speed along your escape, because genuine emotions have always made you sneeze.

“Nu-uh, nada, nope, never seen you in all my life,” you respond. Their face falls. Whoops. Have you said something wrong? But it's not like it's your problem they're upset. You don’t even know why they're upset. You shouldn't care as much as you do. 

“Besides,” you continue “wouldn't you remember if we had met?” 

Your doppelgänger licks their lips and looks at a dusty corner. “I….no. I don't remember anything.” 

Oh, you think. You… don't know how to respond to that. It seems deep. Should you be deep back? Like, offer them comfort or something? You're too stupid for this stuff, and Sazed isn't around to do the thinking any more. 

“Well, listen, that sounds like it sucks, but do you have any idea how to get out of here?” You are so, so stupid, and you are reminded of exactly how stupid you are when your doppelgänger looks up, and there's something like tears in their eyes. 

“I… was hoping you would know,” they say. You don't know whether to feel happy that they seem just as determined to ignore the fact that they're nearly crying as you, or sad that she doesn't feel safe crying around you. Aren't you- no that's ridiculous. You’ve never met them before, why would they trust you. And you can't tell if they're a girl- you’ve been mistaken as one too many times to do the exact same thing. 

“I've got a few ideas, yeah,” you say. 

Your doppelgänger begins to look genuinely happy. “Well, some knowledge is meant to be shared, don't you think?” 

You raise an eyebrow. You weren't intending to take them with you, but. It's not like you can leave them here, your plan doesn't exactly work like that, and the whole thing with the dress is just. Water under the bridge. Besides, it's the sheriff’s fault you’ve lost it now.” 

“Absolutely,” you trill, and jump off the pile of infested straw masquerading as a mattress. Your doppelgänger watches in interest as you place your hand against the wall. You close your eyes for dramatic effect, and to mourn the loss of another spell slot. 

And then you open them, and you're staring at a pane of glass, looking out into an alleyway. 

“Oh yeah!” you shout, and pump your fist in the air. Your doppelgänger comes up beside you and offers their fist. 

“Sweet work, babe,” they say, and you feel something that's been cold and dormant for a long, long time warm up and turn over inside your chest. 

“That's just how the Taako brand works,” you say and bump your fist against theirs. 

“So, uh, should I, y’know, do the honors?” your doppelgänger asks, and mimes smashing their umbrella against the glass. You blink. You hadn't actually thought about how you would break the glass.

“Yeah, totally,” you tell them. They take a step forwards, and a wild grin spreads across their face. It mirrors your own. Then they're lifting their umbrella over their head and bringing it down hard on the glass sheet. 

The glass shatters, and almost instantaneously, there's a thousand tiny glass shards falling in a curtain and it's the most musical thing you’ve ever heard. They land in one glittering line and you stare at it, before looking back up at your doppelgänger. 

“Nice,” you say. 

“I know,” they reply. 

And for just a second, regardless of Glamour Springs, and amnesia, and lost dresses, all is right in the world, and euphoria is bursting from your chest. 

And then the sheriff is bursting from the door shouting about laws and other things you've never considered to apply to you. You and your doppelgänger look at each other, and your doppelgänger looks like they're on the verge of bursting into laughter. 

“Oh shit,” you say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was kinda hard to write- for how much I relate to Taako, he really should flow easier. Anyways, here it is. Thanks for reading, extra thanks for anyone who left a comment or kudos


	4. sometimes joy is found in cannonballing off a roof

The sheriff runs over to the cell, and is twisting his keys into the lock while you and your doppelgänger are jumping over the glass and running out into the alley way. 

Your doppelgänger is cackling as they run. You look over your shoulder and the sheriff and his deputy are chasing you, and their face is hilariously scrunched up and turning a darker shade of purple with each passing second. 

“Hey,” you say to your doppelgänger “are we, you know, actually going anywhere?” 

Your doppelgänger reduces their cackling to an unholy grin. “Uh, well, I was thinking, as long as we’re already criminals, we might as well hit up Fantasy Hot Topic,” they reply.

“Best idea I've ever heard that didn't come from me,” you say. It's a shame that you’ll never rock that dress, but you would look ethereal in a garbage bag. It's not like you need any help. 

The sheriff is still puffing behind you, but as long as no spells start flying, you feel confident that you’ll be able to ditch him within the labyrinth of twisty alleyways and dead ends. 

Your doppelgänger must feel the same, because they're still grinning like a (fabulously beautiful) maniac. You start scanning each alley you skid into for escape routes, and for some reason, the entire situation feels entirely...routine. Piss off the local law enforcement, avoid local law enforcement (or alternatively, if local law enforcement is a bunch of noodle armed pansies, show the local law enforcement what the Taaco™ brand is all about.), and get the hell out of town. You think you should add a step for robbing Fantasy Hot Topic. 

Speaking of Fantasy Hot Topic, where is Fantasy Hot Topic? You feel like this is maybe something you should know, in order to rob Fantasy Hot Topic. Ah, well. You’ll figure it out once you ditch the purple tomato with a sheriff’s badge.

There's a dumpster, and a very conveniently placed fire escape on the next alley you swerve into. Your grin widens, and you don't even have to look over at your doppelgänger to know that they’re on the same wavelength as you.

You jump up onto the dumpster, and it rattles beneath your feet. You don't worry about it collapsing though, because you're already flinging yourself up into the air and grabbing onto the bottom of the fire escape. Something clangs below you, and an identical hand appears next to yours. You and your doppelgänger grin at each other. 

The sheriff is getting closer, so you swing towards the wall and brace a foot against it and fling yourself upwards so your elbows are hooked around the top of the escape. From there, it's easy to scramble up. Your doppelgänger is right behind you, practically shoving you over. 

Together you race up the fire escape, metal clanging beneath your feet. When you look down, the sheriff is attempting to awkwardly use the edge of the dumpster as a stepping stone. The lid collapsed when your doppelgänger jumped up. 

When you reach the top, you spare a moment to blow a kiss down the cussing sheriff. Your doppelgänger cannot be bothered with such subtleties and flips him off. 

You lace your hands together to give your doppelgänger a foothold, and they step up and hoist themselves onto the roof. They reach their hand down, and they must be stronger than you, because they pull you up easily. 

Your doppelgänger gives you a thoughtful look. “Hey,” they say casually “we don't make a bad team, do we?” 

You grin in response, but something warms in your heart. You’re not used to being part of a team. 

(You and Sazed had never really been a team. Just two people sticking together for convenience’s sake. But it was the closest thing you've had to an actual, meaningful relationship for as long as you can remember.) 

“My dude, that's an understatement,” you tell them. 

They hold out a fist. “Damn right it is.” 

You bump your fists together and it feels like coming home. 

Then you look down at the sheriff who’s begun to scale the wall, using his knives to grip the wall. You look over the other side of the wall. As you had suspected, there is no convenient pile of pillows at the bottom. 

“Hey, do you… have any idea how to get down?” You ask, as making some vague hand gestures in the air. 

Your doppelgänger’s eyes flick to you. They open their mouths. Then they shut them with a clack. Awkwardness begins to cloud the air. 

You begin thinking of possible solutions- could you just keep walking along the rooftops? No, the sheriff would catch up too easily. You look down at your nails. They're painted a bright lime green. You just painted them 3 days ago, before the whole mass poisoning fiasco. You’d rather not chip them. Was there any sort of spell you coul- 

“Got it!” You trill. Then you cast Levitation on yourself and yell over to the sheriff, “Hasta la later!” 

And then, as fashionably and dramatically as you can, you fling yourself off the other side of the building. Your doppelgänger bursts into applause. 

“10/10!” They yell. “Extra points for the flip on the way down.” 

“That's just the Taaco™ Brand dude,” you shout back up. Your hat’s landed miraculously on your head, and you cock your hip and put a hand on it, just in case anyone’s watching. 

“CANNONBALL!” Your doppelgänger cheers, before they too, fling themselves from a roof. They plunge down like a rock, and you think they might’ve taken your heart with it. Two feet above their splattery doom, their descent lurches to a halt. Your doppelgänger’s face looks a bit green, but they smirk and salute to an imaginary audience. You burst into applause. If this is what you’re like, you’re even more of a gift then previously assumed. 

(But you’re not really a gift at all. There’s 40 people unable, but probably willing to testify to that. The person who knew you best definitely would. They're all right, after all. Your doppelgänger’s different though. Better. It's nice, you decide, to be around someone with a face like yours, and a heart like theirs.) 

“Alright,” you say cheerily and clasp your hands together “any idea where the fuck we are?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whom else is loving the Taaco twins in this Chile's tonight. 
> 
> Also: this wasn't originally going to be the last chapter, but it got a bit wordy so I decided to cut it off here. Unless the Taaco twins steal the plot, which they are known to do, the next chapter will probably be the last


	5. How To Make A Fantastic Getaway And Also Your First Ever Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just a heads-up: taako has a bit of an anxiety attack this chapter. I don't think it's much, but Im just putting this here in case you don't feel like dealing with that sort of thing today. 
> 
> It's been like. 9 years since I last posted, and I'm not sure what happened in the first chapter. I'd like to say it was real life stuff, but it wasn't really. I'm just sort of a lazy ass.
> 
> Also: this was written and posted at what is now 3:44 am, have sympathy if you notice some typos please

Your arrival to Fantasy Hot Topic is delayed, because as it turns out, your doppelgänger did not, in fact, know where the fuck you were. 

Luckily, they seemed to have no problems with threats, intimidation, or extortion to find your way out of the twisted labyrinth that is the residential zone. Simply asking for directions does not occur to you. 

“So overall,” your doppelganger drawls “I think that went pretty well.” 

You lean back into the seat of the ice cream cart you had appropriated for the greater good and take a bite of your ice cream. You could make better. “Totally. That driver had it coming,” you say. 

Your doppelgänger is admirably multitasking between devouring their 3rd chocolate fudge bar and steering the cart. You’ve got a map laid across your lap, and you’re giving your doppelgänger directions. It would’ve been nicer if you had gotten the ice cream dwarf to do it, but your doppelgänger had vetoed that idea on account of the ‘dead-beat, propaganda consuming, rag of bad ice cream making skills’ would ‘put a jam in their groove,’ which sounded reasonable enough.

“Hey,” you say “10 points if you hit that fruit stand right there.” 

Your doppelgänger’s eyes light up, and they urge on the horses. 

“Alright, one smoothie coming right up!” They whoop, and flip the sunglasses perched on the top of their head down.

“Sweet,” you say.

The fruit stand in question seems to be run by an an elderly human woman. When she sees the cart with the two best looking beings she has ever seen in her life riding full-steam towards her, she stares wide eyed and lets out a squawk of despair and leaps aside at the last second. 

The cart, lead by two terrified horses, who's hooves clatter against the cobblestones in a chaotic cacophony, driven by a (stunningly good looking) elf with a devil’s smile, crashes into the stand. Wood splinters fly around you, fruit lies demolished in your path. You lean over the edge of the cart and swoop down to grab an apple. Wind rushes through your hair, and you're reminded of just how awesome you are. 

(Not really. You wonder how things are going in Glamour Springs- who found the bodies? Did they put out a bounty for him? How many of the your victims unfortunate recipients of the best goddamn meal they’d ever eaten, that just happened to be poisoned, had families? Probably too many. You blame the stinging in your eyes and the lurch in your chest on the speed of the cart.) 

You turn to your doppelgänger and take a bite out of your apple. It's a good apple. 

“Soup- 1. Fruit stand-0,” they say. You smile at finally having a name to give to a (fantastically good looking) face. 

“Sweet shit, my dude,” you say through the rattling of your teeth. Ice cream carts aren't the most luxurious of rides. 

“I know,” says Soup. 

The rest of the ride is as smooth as can be when you're riding in a rickety cart on a cobblestone road spiderwebbed with cracks. Neither of you talk, and for the first time in your life, you understand what a comfortable silence is. No more fruit stands are knocked down, but somehow you don't mind that much. 

Finally, the cart clatters around a corner and onto the street of your destination. Fantasy Hot Topic is looking a little less shiny than it was whenever you were arrested, on account of the shattered windows and cracked cobblestones. Soup looks appreciative at the damage you wrecked. 

“Hey,” they ask as the cart pulls up next to Fantasy Hot Topic “do you know if that's… y’know, safe for munching?” 

You look down at the peppermint candy lying on the ground. You don't know why, but whenever you're panicked, peppermint candy is the first thing to come to mind. That, coupled with your transmutation magic means a little children all over get a snack whenever you get yourself into something you don't know how to get out of. The candy’s probably a little dirty, on account of its former life as a piece of road, but you don't think it'll poison anyo- 

(The crowd of Glamour Springs weren't meant to be poisoned either. You had stood there open mouthed and panicking, as 40 something people, people who had trusted you, had admired you, choked in their seats.)

“Eh,” you say, as casually as you can “transmutation magic can be a bit loopsy sometimes. Go for it if you want to eat a worm though.” 

Soup shakes their head. “I'm a vegetarian,” they tell you. Somehow, you doubt this, but instead of calling them on it, you stick your nose up in the air. 

“Vegetarianism is nice,” you say “if you like to do things halfway. But I'm a vegan.” 

Soup gasps in what you hope is mock offense. “Yes, of course, because it's be terrible every time someone eats a cow’s hard labor, that it naturally produces.” 

You nod sagely. “Tragedies are happening across the world every day. Exploitation of the worst sort.” 

Soup looks at you like you’ve just revealed one of the world’s greatest secrets and nods, with tears in their eyes. “Preach it,” they whisper, their voice cracking half way through. Your shoulders shake with the effort of not bursting into laughter. You wish a vegan was here to see this.

You pick your way through the blend of shattered glass, candy, and other miscellaneous items to the entrance of Fantasy Hot Topic. Soup might appreciate the decor suited towards a very sad teenager with a penchant for drama and the color black, but you think this place could benefit from some tastefully placed neon lights. Maybe one next to that shelf of bath bombs over there?

The far left corner looks like a molten fireball had run through it. You think that this is actually a very likely situation. All merchandise within a five foot radius of it is charred or ashes, and the there are black footprints burnt into the floor. 

“Nice work,” you tell Soup.

They shrug in false modesty. “We all need our escape routes.” 

You're thankful you know have the cart, because other wise there's no way you would've been able to carry all your loot. 

“Hey, Soup,” you yell across the shop “look at this sorry excuse of rags.” 

Soup turns around from where they're shoving every single black skull candle into a bag. 

“Hah!” they say. “I didn't know this place sold clown gear.” 

You cackle and turn away from the hideous pair of leggings on display. “I guess you learn new things every day.” 

Soup snorts and moves on to stare at the dresses on display, and you go back judging the store you're in the process of robbing. 

“Hey, yo, whatsyourface,” Soup shouts over to you, and the grin is audible in their voice, “check this out.” 

“I'm Taako, my dude,” you tell them as you crane your neck. Soup’s standing next to a display rack of the Most Amazing Dresses you have ever seen, ever. Except. You have seen them. Earlier today, right before you fought what looks like your long lost twin and got arrested over it. 

Whoops.   
(And isn't that just like you, to cause damage and mayhem and trouble when you didn't even need to? The dress was literally right there, how could you have missed it? Your stupidity is something that never ceases to simultaneously amaze you and fan the flames of your bonfire of self hatred.) 

Maybe it's time to switch topics. 

Soup grins at you. “I'm Sup,” they proclaim, like someone's going to try to take their name away from them and are welcome to try.

“Nice to meetcha Soup,” you tell them as you head over to the dress rack.

“No, no, I mean Sup, not Soup,” they say. You're not completely sure there's a difference.

“O...kay,” you say, shoving as much skepticism as you can into 2 syllables. 

“Like, S-u-p Sup, not S-o-u-p Soup, y’know,” they continue on. Oh. Oh. You should have realized that, you are hella stupid. How ridiculous would it be to be named after a food.

“Ah,” you say. Sup nods along to your revelation. 

“It just sounded right,” they explain. That's right; Sup wouldn't have remembered their name, not after their amnesia funtimes.

“Sounds lit m’guy,” you say instead of offering anything that sounded like comfort or sympathy, because you don't know how to offer either of those things. 

“M’girl,” they say “I'm a girl.” 

“Sounds lit m’girl,” you tell as you idly drape a boa you snagged off a shelf around your neck. It's cobalt blue and definitely going in the bag. Sup gives you a small smile. You go back to the shelf you got the boa off and take another one. Sup doesn't raise an eyebrow when you walk up to her and arrange it around her neck; it looks good on her. 

You take two dresses off the rack and move to shove them in a plastic bag before Sup reaches out and intervenes. 

“Yo, babe, darling, not to be rude, but what the fuck are you doing,” she scolds you, as she takes the dresses out of your hands and awkwardly folds them as best she can, before shoving them in the exact same place you were going to shove them, where they'll just get messed up again. In an incredible show of maturity, you limit yourself to rolling your eyes and shoving your nose in the air. Sup looks at you with a frown, and then shoves her nose just as high in the air, but in the opposite direction. 

The rest of your time in Fantasy Hot Topic is spent mutually miffed and offended. It is harder than it looks to see a display of earrings and not cheer, but you manage admirably. Better, you think, and look over at Sup, who’s attempting smile and look better than you, than some people. You don't bother to take the earrings of the display, you just shove the entire spinny rack thing into a bag. 

Finally, when the shop is ransacked of all things fit to wear, not including the clown gear, and you're struggling to carry the 20-something bags you've filled in your arms, Sup turns to you and says, “well, we’ve had fun here, but I think it's time to hit the road before whatshisface shows up and starts yammering about the law again.” 

A ridiculous fear clutches your chest. Sup wants to leave, doesn't want to see you again, wants you to be alone, alone, alone. This is stupid, it's ridiculous, you've only known her for half a day, why do you care, it's such a stupid thing to care to about, and none of these rationalizations make your heart stop thumping at a rabbit’s pace. 

You don't show this to Sup. “Don't forget about yaknowthem showing up and spilling their crush everywhere.”

“Terrible things, crushes,” Sup says, and you nod at these words of wisdom. 

The two of you troop out the door, but barely, because both your arms are full and you're staggering around like drunk pigeons trying to figure out how to walk. Your impending anxiety attack seems to take a hint that it's not wanted, and relegates itself to stirring fearful thoughts in the back of your mind, where they can be safely ignored and never dealt with, and tightening your chest until it feels like there's a vise clamped around your heart. 

You hop up onto the cart and let the bags spill out of them with a grateful sigh. They land in a heap, and you crouch down and try to make sure everything's still in one piece, and then try to arrange it so everything stays in one piece. Sup does the same, except apparently she can't be bothered to make sure that nothing fell apart in transit, and her bags remain in a pile as she settles down in the driver's seat. You try to scold her with your eyebrow as best you can, and instead of looking appropriately chastised, Sup just looks up at you and shrugs. ‘What’re ‘ya gonna do about it’ are the unspoken words. 

You settle down next to Sup and disapprovingly bump her with your shoulder. She playfully bumps you back, and you contemplate shoving her out of the cart before remembering why that would be a bad idea. But- she's just going to leave, does it make any difference as to when she does it? Yes, you think, absolutely. It was… fun, today, and you'd like to have another comfortable silence, and more of that camaraderie that just seems to fall into place, even if it's just until you reach the next town. 

Sup takes the back way out of town, because you two have tempted fate enough, and you're getting the feeling a mob wouldn't be out of question after the ice cream man, the fruit stand, and the shop you just robbed. You're really not in the mood to fight the sheriff again, partially because you don't feel like getting your ass kicked again. That's really an event you try to keep to once a day. 

You and Sup conspicuously don't talk about what will happen when you reach wherever you're going. You don't talk about where you're going either, but mostly because you're just too lazy. Once you're out of town, you and Sup start trading probing glances, and you feel tempted to interpret that as ‘she wants to stick around’, but you know better than to get your hopes up. 

“So,” Sup finally says “it would… kinda suck, if we had to split up all this junk, and sort out who gets the cart.” 

“I'll fight you for it,” you mumble sleepily. The sky turned black somewhere within the past few minutes, and you're probably going to have to stop soon. 

“I’d turn you into a fucking Sup Specialty,” Sup tells you.

“Don't fucking test me,” you reply. It's a peaceful conversation. 

Sup takes a breath. She seems oddly nervous, and you feel oddly willing to comfort her.

“So instead of dealing with all that bullshit,” she begins, and you feel hope rise like butterflies in your chest “we should just… stick together. Y’know?” 

You allow the moment to linger, because this is great, this is fantastic. But then Sup’s wide, vulnerable eyes catch up to you, and you realize you have to respond sooner or later. 

“Splitting up would suck ass,” you agree, and you're grinning as wide as you ever have. “And those skull bathbombs looked pretty great.”

Sup’s body just sort of… deflates, once the tension’s left it. You pull yourself up to go sit next to her, just to remind you're here and happy, although you don't know why she would give a damn about that. 

So you and Sup lean against each other, and you're both tired but exuberant. The moon’s been in the sky for far longer than it should've been, when you finally stop for the night. 

And when you stare up at it, you think about Glamour Springs, and Sazed, and just your general you-ness. 

So things may still suck, but at least they won't kick just your ass. 

You fall asleep curled against another warm body, with a smile on your face.


End file.
